It was rare that Bucky Barnes got sick, despite living with the human petri dish known as Steve Rogers, but here he was, curled up on the couch instead of the bed he shared with Steve even though the doctor told him what he had was non-communicable. Bucky wasn't about to take a chance with Steve's health, no matter how many times the doctor reassured him or Steve stamped his foot. He would die alone out here, thanks.
And it did feel as though he were dying. His entire body ached--his chest especially, from coughing up what he could only surmise was his entire lung.
Steve, bless his faltering heart, was doing his best to take good care of him, but he was absolutely terrible at it. Make no mistake, Bucky appreciated his efforts (and the cute apron and headscarf he was wearing), but after being served brackish water for coffee and bits of charcoal for pancakes, Bucky needed Steve to capitulate.
"I'm thinking pork roast for dinner tonight," Steve said, hands resting on his slim hips. Bucky could see the struggle to remain positive in the face of crushing defeat shining in the blond's eyes. "I got my ma's recipe box. Shouldn't be too hard."
"Baby--" croaked Bucky.
"I mean, even I can follow simple written instructions, right?" Steve interrupted.
"Baby, my throat is sore. I dunno if I can manage a roast. What I could really go for is that potato soup they serve at the corner deli."
"Potato soup at the corner deli," Steve repeated. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah," Bucky replied, praying that the other man didn't insist.
Steve appeared to accept the diversion. He dropped his hands from his hips and untied his apron. "Then that's what I'll do. I still got a little cash left over from the other night, so don't even think about tryin' to pay for it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bucky replied.
"I ain't any good at this, am I?" Steve's face abruptly fell. He looked so much like a kicked puppy, Bucky could cry. "Guess this is why queers don't have kids," Steve concluded sadly.
Bucky pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled the other man to him by his belt loops. "Don't you talk like that, Steve Rogers. You'd make an excellent father." Steve rested his chin on top of Bucky's head and sniffed--a valiant effort on his part not to cry.
"I mean, bein' a ma is more in my blood than yours anyways. You know I practically raised my sisters, and God knows I dangled from my ma's apron strings until you came along. You don't know what the future holds, Stevie." Bucky buried his face in Steve's skinny chest. "We'd make fuckin' ace parents."
"You mean that?" the blond asked. His arms closed around Bucky's neck as he nuzzled his hair.
"Of course I do," he replied, and pulled Steve down into his lap. Screw non-communicable illnesses and his renegade lungs. He couldn't watch Steve collapse in on himself like that. He'd never been good at accepting rejection or failure, and Steve really was garbage at household chores. God, if anything ever happened to Bucky, Steve would die of starvation. Bucky slipped his hands up underneath Steve's shirt and felt each individual knob of his spine. The blond arched into him and stroked the short hairs at the back of Bucky's neck.
"I love you," Steve said softly, cupping the other man's face in his hands. His callused palms stroked Bucky's stubble. The brunet back looked up at him, his eyes focused on Steve's plush lips.
"You're not so bad yourself. That apron really got me goin'," Bucky replied with a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes, kissed him--and abruptly pulled away.
"Maybe we shouldn't. Not if you're sick," he said. Even as he protested, he put his fingers down the neck of Bucky's shirt. His arousal was heavy against Bucky's thigh, which he not-so subtly rubbed against him. It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes.
"If I tell you I'm too tired, I'm just going to have to listen to you jerk off in the other room. You might as well do it here with me."
Steve's brows arched briefly. His pale, elegant hands fluttered from Bucky's neck to his lower abdomen and crotch. "You want me to give you a tug job?" he asked. Those hands had already found their way into his boxers, and when Bucky looked up, Steve was staring back at him through long lashes. The brunet twitched in his palms.
"You're so fuckin' beautiful, you know that?"
"So're you," Steve replied, glancing down at the cock in his hands.
"You only tell me I'm pretty when you're horny," Bucky jokingly complained. Steve gave him an indulgent smile.
"You got the most astonishing eyes I've ever seen. Like a storm coming in over the Atlantic." He ran his middle finger down the bridge of Bucky's nose. "Your nose is as cute as a button, and your lips are so pink, like I already kissed 'em." Steve leaned and kissed him again. "You're beautiful."
Bucky leaned back on the couch so Steve was more properly astride him. His head fell back against a cushion as the other man continued to work him. Steve buried his face in Bucky's chest, slipping easily into the space between the brunet's body and the back of the couch. His hands never stopped moving up and down his shaft, his clever fingers rolling over the head in a way that made Bucky clench his jaw.
Bucky's breath came in haggard pants, and not because of his cold. His hips arched off of the cushions and into Steve's hands.
"Oh, God, Stevie--" Bucky bit his lower lip and pushed his fingers through his hair. "I love you. More than anything or anyone--"
"I love you too, Buck," Steve replied. He looked up at the other man before curling his fingers into a tight fist. Bucky moaned and fucked up into his hand. Steve shifted so he could wrap his lips around him. Looking down, all Bucky could see were those eyes and those damned lips, all shrouded behind a fall of golden blond hair.
Bucky's hand tightened on the back of Steve's neck. "I'm gonna come! Oh shit, I'm coming!"
Steve's hand disappeared, but he swallowed his length down. A few drops of come dripped from his mouth and trickled back into Bucky's pubic hair. After the last spasm hit him, Steve returned to his spot at his side and swallowed.
"You really think we could have a family?" Steve asked.
"Sure, but maybe we should start out with a dog or cat," Bucky replied.
The blond turned to look up at the other man.
"So you don't accidentally kill it."
Steve huffed a huge sigh through his nose.
"Maybe sea monkeys, like you order from the back of comic books."
The other man grunted--and then sneezed into Bucky's armpit.
